Slow down

Such a wise invitation from a friend:

Slow down. Let our body and mind relax. Let us live with our heart instead.

Look, feel, smell and touch everything around us -- the floor, the wall, the house, the road, the tree, the people, the car, the paper, the words, the language, the music, the sounds, the flower, anything -- each second each day.

Release all our wants, needs, hopes, expectations, and thoughts. Breathe slowly with only one thing in our heart: I am Yours, God. Let Him work with us. Accept anything and everything each day He may give us.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.

Lead me O Lord, to see the truth of me.
Forgive me O Lord, for never could surrender faithfully to You.
Help me O Lord, as I am your lost shepherd.

-thank you-

The hurting time

A song by Annie Lennox.

To everything there is a purpose
To every blade of grass
And every leaf on every tree
Every living thing will surely come to pass
And what will be will be

That's when the hurting time begins

And all the things you never said
Or didn't have the strengh to say
And everything you ever did
That time won't ever wash away
Fears that you've been living with
Gonna leave their trace
Tears that you´ve been living with
Come running down your face
Running down your face

That's when the hurting time begins

So tell me what the day brings
Has it lost its thrill?
Are you still searching
Hoping for that space to fill
Everything you turn to
Is like a mirror on the shelf
And the only one you're blaming is yourself

A million little deaths you've died
The times that you've been crucified
The more you've loved and lost and tried
And still could not be satisfied
When will you be satisfied?
When will you be satisfied?

Not until the hurting time begins

What are your desires?

Our spanish teacher asked us that question the other day as practice. My friends asked for many health, prosperity, many travels abroad, etc.

My answer: a bath, massage and hot mint tea.

Will I ever stop?

A question a friend of mine asked to me recently.

I have been travelling and moving all my life. So he asked the question: "will you ever stop and settle down?".

My answer: "I don't know. I don't think I will. But I tell you this much: I believe that God is guiding me through life. I believe in God's guidance. I will know when I should stop and when to move on, sometimes without knowing why. Doesn't matter. I believe He will guide me, and I will be fine."

I am not sure why I gave that answer. It just popped out of my mouth. Just like that. Just like everything else that happens in my life.

You're too kind, Lord. I like it ;)

It is the small things, you know

These are the words from one of my friends in Seville.

All those clichés – it is the small things; you do not know what you have got until you lose it – they are so true.

Think of these: When was the last time we feel grateful about:
- Our family and friends
- That shouting and laughter from your brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews
- Being able to speak the language without thinking
- Knowing where to buy everything, or better yet, anything
- The warmth and the sun (oh, the sun)
- The extra blanket or heater when you need one
- The warm strong douche after a long day
- The afternoon or all-day shopping
- The warm rice, dried or friend (gurame!) fish, sambal (chilly paste) and krupuk (crackers); snacks from the street hawkers – cannot take the Indonesian out of this girl
- The hot meal that is prepared by our dear-old mom (ok, my mom)
- Our pets (yes, my cat and late chicken)
- Getting up or walking to school or office without being frozen (again, MY car)
- The celebrity gossip shows on TV (yes, even that)
- That small garbage bin in your room
- The 10 year-old long pillow or blanket that is oh so comfy

All those small things you have taken for granted. Until you are in a new country in a new apartment with completely new set of people with no language to speak and no escaping the winter plus a lot of studying and homework to do.

Ok, it is not that bad. In fact, it is not bad at all. But yes, I miss them all. I miss you all. There, I have said it.

Then again, as my friends at Maverick will say, (in Italian accent) This is nothin!! I am so lucky. Lucky. Lucky.

ps: I wrote this piece on one afternoon under the sun at one of the terrace by a garden in Seville, sipping warm tea with a friend. (Hi Floor! I wonder if you will ever read this. Thank you). That was also nice, very nice. It is indeed in the small things. Always.

Habla Habla Habla

Or talk, talk, talk.

I have to hand it to you: the Spanish talks a lot. In the tapas (snack) bars, for instance, there is practically little music or TV, just people talking, drinking and eating for hours with their in-your-face gestures, clear (ok, loud) voices and not-to-be-missed laughter.

I see couples – young and old -- or parents and children, or friends -- passing by, embracing one another and talking passionately while looking straight at their partner’s eyes.

They communicate. They wear their hearts on their sleeves. They are creating a bond between them.

Fascinating. I love it. Le me gusta!

How many of us really talk that much. I mean, really talk. With our family, partners or friends. We go to a lounge or a restaurant, where we sit, eat, drink and listen to the music but no talk. We sit in the same car, we watch the same TV at home, but there was no conversation. We are together but then again we are really alone.

Perhaps that is where we have gone wrong. Scratch that – Let us not generalize.

Perhaps that is where I have gone wrong. Perhaps this is one reason why God has put me here in Spain: to learn again how to really communicate, from the very beginning.

Yes, yes, let’s all go to Aceh

I am sorry. Am I being cynical again?

It is almost one year after the tsunami and it is like now everybody is going to Aceh to commemorate (yeeahh I wrote that word right the first time) the tsunami in Aceh last year.

I do not mean it in a bad way. In fact, hats off to all people who have devoted their time to help rebuild Aceh. I spent a short three weeks there for a project several months ago and it stressed the hell out of me.

My first thought when I arrived in Aceh was that there were so many foreigners (meaning: people originated outside of Aceh). Too many. I supposed too many might be better than too few. Though I am not so sure about this.

I was just thinking – how does the Acehnese feel about this? It is like suddenly all people want to enter your home and help you rebuild it. Before you know it some of them have started to tell you what to do as if you do not know better.

I was just thinking – are we really marching to the same drumbeat here? Are we going to the same direction? It just does not seem like it.

I was just thinking – would it not be better if it is the Acehnese is the one who lead all these developments? The others help – only help, support. Or is this the case? Let me think – no. I am sticking to my skeptical self.

So let’s all think before we put up front our angelic self and step out to save the world: Are we doing this for them or for our selfish selves? Are we really making things better or worse? Is there a way to make us even more useful?

Which is worse: doing something with a bad intension, doing something with a good intension but turned out to worsen the condition, or not doing anything at all? I don’t know. I am curious though.

Comfort zone no more

Imagine: you live in your own city with a good family, great friends, and a steady career. All factors that literally define our comfort zone.

Now imagine: you intentionally take yourselves out of that situation - in a new country that speaks no language you understand, without any friends or family. You are stepping out of your comfort zone.

That is what I am doing right now. I have taken my sabbatical leave to take a step back from my own life, moved to a new country to learn the language. I have got more than what I initially bargained for.

You see I have always been arrogant enough to think that I am so independent that I will instantly be fine in any kind of (new) environment or situation. I should have known better.

I must admit. On the first couple of days, I was lost. The perfectionist high-achieving me has to admit that I am not as good or capable as I thought I am. Arrogant, I know. Aren’t we all?

Two weeks have gone by. I have started to make new friends. I know mostly the streets that I should know (and I have a map for those I don’t). I have started to speak the language. I have more or less settled in my new routine. I am starting to get more comfortable with my new situation. (Start is obviously the operative word here).

I am making this my new comfort zone. Yet I still have my city, my family, my friends and my work back home as my other comfort zone. (Lucky me, I know).

So let me rephrase my previous statement. I am not stepping out of my comfort zone. I am expanding my comfort zone. To make a better me.

So God help me, and us all.

ps: I shall try to make a special blog for my Spanish journey